40 Day Dream
by Lila2
Summary: When her affair with Tripp turns sour, Serena has to learn to save herself.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **"40 Day Dream"

**Author:**Lila

**Rating: **Light R for language

**Character/Pairing: **Serena, Serena/Tripp, Serena/Nate

**Spoiler: **AU post-"The Last Days of Disco Stick" but minor spoilers for all aired episodes

**Length: **Part I of III

**Summary:** When her affair with Tripp turns sour, Serena has to learn to save herself.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **Having written Blair, Chuck, and Nate several times in this fandom, it finally felt time to take on Serena. She's my least favorite of the Four, but no less important and it took some dirty mistress action on her part for me to dig into her head. I started this fic well before the fallout of her affair with Trip and then put it on hold when canon diverged so far from my original plan, yet I came back to it this weekend and decided that while I can't match canon, I can put my own spin on what might have been. Title courtesy of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. Enjoy.

* * *

It starts with a lie (hers, Maureen's…it stops mattering after the first martini is poured).

The line isn't blurry.

She just gets tired of doing the right thing.

---

They don't make love.

He kisses her, hard and hot, unzips her dress and fucks her on a desk bearing his wife's portrait.

The photo falls to the floor with an angry crack and she imagines the glass shattering the way his marriage did.

She smiles, digs her fingers into his hair, and draws his mouth down to hers. It's dark in his office but there's moonlight and the glow of the hallway lights and his wedding ring still manages to gleam gold.

It hurts her eyes so she closes them, out of sight and out of mind.

His hands still on her hips and he asks once, "Are you sure?"

She nods and his hands cup her face, the metal of his wedding band cool against her heated skin as he breaks the last barrier.

He's buried deep inside her, stretching her open and splitting her wide, but she's never felt more empty.

---

"Tell me something I don't know," he says one afternoon, propped on his elbow in a hotel bed beside her, the gold of his hair hiding the gold of his ring.

She shifts, pulls the sheets to cover her breasts, and turns to face him. He smiles down at her and his eyes are soft and warm. She feels safe, protected, because she knows what's at stake. A career, a district, a future, and it all hinges on her. She smiles back and tells the truth. He's risking everything to be with her; what's a little honesty going to do? "I've never been with someone who loves me for me."

He looks sad but he does little more than reach out to brush her hair from her face.

She keeps smiling even as she waits for the words that never come.

---

He gives an interview on NY1 and she watches in this office, propped on the desk they christened that first night.

There's a rustle of papers beneath her thigh and she shifts, pulls them out of the way.

It's a list of notes she meticulously took, research she gathered, responses she scripted. Onscreen, she watches him laugh, answer a question she didn't write and cite evidence she didn't find.

There's a photo of his wife on the desk, a new frame for a new beginning, and it pokes painfully into her hip.

She crinkles the research he never planned on using between her fingers and her heart thuds painfully in her chest. She knew he didn't hire her for her brains, but she didn't think she'd be the butt of a joke either.

She keeps her eyes focused on the screen and wills herself not to cry.

---

She finds out she's pregnant on the Monday before Christmas.

She doesn't call him.

There's speeches to give and babies to kiss and a wife to stand by his side every step of the way; there isn't room for her in this world.

She calls Blair instead.

"I'm late," is all she says and even though she can't actually see Blair, the crease forming between her brows and the disapproval in her eyes is clear as day.

"Okay," Blair responds, the lecture surprisingly absent from her words even though a month ago she threatened to walk out of her life forever rather than spend eternity cleaning up her messes. "We'll figure this out together."

She hangs up and curls into a ball in the privacy of Blair's blue bedroom, knees drawn to her chest.

She's never been the brightest bulb in the room but the irony isn't lost on her.

---

They learned their lesson the last time and send Dorota on a day trip to Greenpoint.

Three hours later Blair is pacing in her blue bedroom and she's staring at two pink lines winking at her from the marble of Blair's sink. She remembers the last time they did this, how Blair took the test alone, and she's grateful for the friend waiting on the other side of the door.

"Well?" Blair asks and uncrosses her arms, her face narrow and pinched as she awaits the results. Still, her eyes are kind, like his that first night, and something squeezes inside Serena's chest; she knows it's more than the tears she's trying not to cry.

"Two lines," she whispers. "Oh my god, what am I going to do?"

A slender arm circles her back and they sink to the floor, backs arching against Blair's silk comforter. "Shh, shhh," Blair whispers and strokes her hair. "I'm going to help you through this the way you did for me."

She's given up trying not to cry and Blair's a little hazy when she raises her head to look at her, but she's mostly surprised by the tears glistening in Blair's eyes. "Why are you crying?" she asks.

Blair sniffles a little and shakes back her curls to get it together. "I can't believe I ever tried to walk away from you. The thing about friendship is, you're there through the good times and the bad. This is bad, Serena, really bad, but you need me the most. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Can you just be my friend?"

They crawl into bed together, the one Blair called home for eighteen years and the one she calls home now, and she cries because she's stupid and she's sad and she's screwed up again. Gabriel, Carter, even Dan – she's always hitched her horse to the wrong wagon.

Blair wraps her in her arms and doesn't let go.

---

She tells him on Christmas Eve.

The office is mostly empty but he's working late and a knowing smile curves his lips as she walks in, skirt short and heels high. This is how it's always been between them; no need to change things now.

"Shut the door," he says as a greeting and she kicks it closed behind her, the way she always has, but surprises him by settling into the seat opposite his desk rather than spreading her legs on top of it. The picture gleams in the fading sunlight but she can't see his wife's face. She's thankful. She might hate that traitorous bitch but she doesn't think she can do this while facing her, even the ghost of her.

"You look upset," he says and seems confused, because she's Serena Van der Woodsen and she's all blond hair and booze and boobs and there's never been anything complicated about her. The rules have always been his to set; she knows he doesn't want to change them.

"I'm pregnant," she says and the confusion disappears from his face to be replaced by horror. This wasn't what he signed up for; wrecking his career was never supposed to be part of the deal.

He surprises her though. He doesn't yell and he doesn't blame her. He doesn't channel his grandfather and ask her to get rid of it but he doesn't offer to leave his wife either.

It feels like hours have past even though she knows it's barely been five minutes before he gets out of his seat and comes to her, perches on the edge of that desk and stares down into her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

She can't talk but she can nod.

There are barely six inches of space separating them and she aches to touch him, for him to touch her, to take her in his arms and tell her it will be okay. She longs for him to tell her he's happy, happy to be having a baby but especially happy to be having a baby with her. She wants to be anyone but Serena Van der Woodsen because she knows this isn't Blair's life; she knows she's not going to get any of those things.

One hand reaches out, but he doesn't reach for her; he reaches for his phone.

---

They're sitting in silence when Nate arrives an hour later.

He makes excuses – it's Christmas Eve, he's supposed to be with his family. She tries not to shudder as that word – _family_ – bites right to the bone.

Nate takes the chair beside hers and stares at his cousin on the other side of the desk. "Why so serious, everyone?"

There's a smile in his eyes to match the one curving his lips and if the bottom hadn't just fallen out of her world she thinks she might smile back. Instead she says nothing, teeth cutting into her lower lip to keep from screaming or crying or hitting someone. She's Serena Van der Woodsen; she watches her world fall apart around her and doesn't lift a finger to stop it.

Tripp's the first to speak, his teeth flashing in the dim light. He smiles, his politician's smile that says "I'm sorry" and "I'm in trouble" all in one curve of his mouth. "I'm going to need you to rescue me again, Nate."

Nate's eyes round a bit but his smile doesn't fall. "What happened? Did Maureen tell the truth about the Hudson Hero?"

Tripp shakes his head and the smile doesn't leave his face but his eyes tell a different story; he wants this mess to be anything but what it really is. "Serena's in a bind – "

"I'm pregnant," she cuts in before he can say more. He might be from politics and she might be from the Upper East Side but she's tired of the half-truths.

The smile disappears from Nate's face but worse is the look in his eyes. She has to look away because she can feel the disappointment there in her soul. It's a long moment before he speaks and when he does his voice is steady but he stares straight ahead, a blank expression plastered across his face. "How can I help?"

Tripp lets out a deep breath and his smile widens. "I was hoping you would say that. We're going to need you to take responsibility."

Nate's eyes drift closed and he swallows heavily. "Of course."

"Nate," Serena breaks in. "This is ridiculous. You have your own life. You don't need to save the day this time."

He finally looks at her and his eyes aren't the warm blue she remembers. They're cold and empty and match the tone of his voice. "Actually, I do." He turns to Tripp and it's only when they're looking at each other head on that the practiced smile leaves his face. "If I do this for you, Tripp, you had better _never_ ask for anything ever again."

Tripp doesn't respond but he does nod and reaches across the desk to shake Nate's hand, seal the deal, shove another blight on the Van der Bilt name under the rug.

Serena keeps her eyes focused on the gilded gold of Maureen's portrait, tunes out the lie that will probably sink them all.

They never once ask Serena what she thinks or what she feels. They don't remember that this is happening to her too. When it's over and the particulars are all worked out and her future has been decided by people other than herself, Nate rises and reaches out one hand to help her to her feet.

She doesn't say a word of protest. She's used to men determining her fate.

---

She's not sure what to say to him on the ride home.

He sits beside her, close enough to touch but a million miles away, his profile like carved stone as he stares into the bright lights.

"Nate…" she tries and slides her hand across the worn leather to grasp his. He doesn't push her away but his fingers don't wrap around hers either. "You don't have to do this," she says again. "I'll figure something out."

He laughs, bitter and without humor, and pulls his hand away. "Let's not fool ourselves," he bites out. "Blair's the one with the brains." He leaves it unsaid what she has to offer.

She slinks back against her seat, fingers clasped tightly over her abdomen. It's flat, like it's always been, and she still can't believe there's something _alive_ in there. She's never been able to take care of herself let alone another human being. She's never _had_ to take care of herself. She's not sure she's ready even now.

"Nate," she whispers, tries to jump start the conversation, but her words die at the sudden storminess in his stoic expression. He's supposed to be her Nate but in the dim glimmer of the streetlights he looks like every black knight whisking her further and further from grace.

"I told you I loved you," he says quietly and his words cut right through her, precise and even like the lines that took Pete Fairman's life. "I told you I loved you and you ran off with my cousin." His eyes linger on her stomach, bright red nails catching the tarnished glow. "Now you're having his baby and you think I'm okay with it?"

"But you said – "

He smiles but it's cold and empty and nothing like the Nate she remembers. It's like looking into Chuck's face, the cheshire grin curving his lips in a mocking smile right before he tried to kiss her, use her, and she can't withhold the shudder. "I'm a loyal soldier, Serena, but it doesn't mean this doesn't hurt. I'll help you the way I've always helped you, but right now, can you just not talk?"

She slumps back against the seat in silence, closes her eyes to block out the deadness in Nate's. It's not the first time she's ruined someone else's life, but she presses a hand to her still flat belly. She hopes it's the last.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **"40 Day Dream"

**Author: **Lila

**Rating: **Light R

**Character/Pairing:** Serena, Serena/Nate

**Spoiler: **AU post-"The Last Days of Disco Stick" but minor spoilers for all aired episodes

**Length: **Part II of III

**Summary:** Her affair with Tripp goes sour but Serena manages to find a happy ending after all.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the support for the first part. This is a fic with an intense amount of planning so the updates are coming out slower than anticipated, but I think it's ultimately for the better. Enjoy.

* * *

Serena doesn't go home. The taxi whisks its way up 5th Avenue, towards the streets she knows too well, but never makes a turn east.

It's not hers and it never will be but Blair's blue bedroom is the closest thing she has to home. She thinks about protesting, breaking the uneasy truce she and Nate have drawn in the silence, because what she wants most in the world is to be alone.

She glances at the heartbreak etched in the stone of Nate's face and doesn't say a world.

She no longer deserves to get what she wants.

---

Blair is waiting and Chuck is drinking when they walk through the door.

They're two of the most important people in her life but she can't help but worry that she's stumbled into a scene from the next thirty years of their lives. She glances at Nate, his face still blank, as he slips into a chair and sips the vodka Chuck thrusts into his hand; she doesn't want this to be the rest of her life too.

"Well?" Blair asks, pale fingers clenched tightly in her lap.

Nate takes a long sip of his drink and closes his eyes tightly. "Serena's going to be staying with me for a while," he says, his voice as hollow as the expression on his face. "You know, we wouldn't want to make the wrong impression."

His eyes are locked on Blair and she stiffens, recently healed wounds ripped open by his words. Chuck's hand tightens on his glass and he leans forward and for a moment Serena thinks they've fallen a year into the past. It's two boys and one girl and still she's never the one caught in between. "Stop it, everyone," she says, takes charge of the situation rather than let them destruct around her. "It's Christmas. We shouldn't be fighting. This is my problem."

Nate's face falls and he turns to Blair. "I'm sorry," he says. "It's just…this wasn't how I expected tonight to turn out."

Chuck settles back against the couch and Blair curls into his chest, head resting in the curve of his shoulder. Serena is in the chair opposite Nate's, barely a foot separating them, but she already knows better than to reach for his hand. "Blair, what are you doing here?" she asks, because she loves her friend but Eleanor and Cyrus are in town and she knows how much Blair values her time with them. "It's Christmas," she repeats. "You should be with your family."

Blair's eyes dart from Chuck's face to Nate's and eventually land on hers. "Nonsense," she says. "I'm right where I need to be." She reaches out a hand and squeeze's Serena's tight. "Whatever you're going through, we're going to be here for you." She elbows Chuck and he reaches out a hand to rest it on top of hers. "Nate?" Blair says, her voice taking on the sharp tone she couldn't quite leave behind in high school. "Are you forgetting something?"

It takes Nate a long while, so long Serena can actually hear the time ticking away to the beat of her heart, but Chuck doesn't clear his throat and Blair doesn't hiss under her breath, and it takes time but Nate gulps down the rest of his drink and rests his hand on top of hers.

---

"You didn't answer my question." Blair's eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, her silk robe a sharp contrast to the old t-shirt of Nate's Serena's wearing.

"I'm doing fine, Blair," she says and spits toothpaste in the sink. "No morning sickness yet, but my boobs hurt all the time."

"Consider looser dresses," Blair cracks and Serena flicks a hand under the faucet, water spraying everywhere. Serena expects Blair to scream or shriek, but she just rolls her eyes and shuts off the tap. "Serena…"

She doesn't say anything for a long while but Blair doesn't look away. She's only nineteen and her face is as smooth as the day they started Constance but she isn't a girl anymore. Serena doesn't think she has been for a while. "I'm keeping her," she finally says, the words strong even though she hasn't thought them before – hasn't let herself think them – but she doesn't mean them any less.

"Oh, S," Blair whispers and wraps her in her arms, smaller and shorter but somehow still stronger. Blair kisses her cheek and pulls back. "Whatever you need, you'll always have me."

---

Serena keeps looking in the mirror long after Blair is gone, the same gold of her hair and curve of her cheek that have been her reflection for the past eighteen years. She crosses her arms over her chest and watches the way her t-shirt tightens over her belly. She squints, searches for a bump under the worn cotton, but all she sees is her breasts straining to be free and long legs peeking from beneath the too-short hem.

She sees the girl she's always been.

---

She spends the night in Nate's bed. Chuck's suite is a perfect bachelor pad but there are only two rooms and she won't ask Nate to take the couch.

He doesn't hold her. He doesn't kiss her. He doesn't even touch her.

The first night she shared a bed with Tripp, she curled into his back, chin pressed into the gap between his shoulder blades, one arm clinging to his narrow waist.

Nate turns his back to her, arms curled around a pillow, long legs tucked beneath him and toes dangling over the side.

She clings to her side of the bed, acutely aware of his warmth despite the empty space between them.

She thinks of the long months ahead, the weight he just pledged to carry on his broad shoulders. She slides an inch closer, so close she can feel his heat flaring along her bare arms.

She hopes it's enough.

---

Serena sits down to breakfast the next morning and there's a silver rattle under the lid of her room service platter.

She glares at Chuck, cutting primly into his pancakes, and starts to cry. She's never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve or show her cards so soon, but she's so tired. She's tired of the anger in Tripp's eyes, the betrayal in Nate's, even the weariness in Blair's. She needs one person on her side without judgment. She needs one battle she can win without even trying.

Chuck glances up and sets down his fork. "I hear I'm going to be an uncle," he says calmly and takes a sip of coffee. "Congratulations." He reaches across the table and presses a handkerchief (purple, embroidered) into her hand. "Stop crying, Serena. It's not doing you any favors."

"Why are you treating me like this?" she asks as she presses the handkerchief to her nose even as tears continue to silently trickle down her cheeks. She and Chuck have had their differences, but he's her brother and he's Chuck Bass. She'd expect indifference from anyone but him.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes glittering black, and she doesn't recognize him. They're both eighteen but he's a man, in control of his own destiny, while she's still relying on others to determine hers. It's not right but it doesn't make it any less real. "I know Nate isn't the father of your baby." Chuck's eyes harden and his fingers still on his coffee mug. "I know what it's like to grow up in a house full of lies. I can't stand by while you make the same choice."

Serena swallows hard and blinks through the tears and web of gold hair that's shielded her from the truth, the real truth, every time before. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it?"

She sees Tripp that last day, the anger in his eyes and the disappointment etched in the lines of his face, and she knows she isn't doing this for herself. She knows what's it's like to be pushed aside and discarded; she knows what it's like to be tolerated rather than wanted. "I can't let her grow up knowing she isn't wanted. Nate...he loves me, Chuck. I know he'll love her too."

It takes Chuck a long while to respond and when he looks into her eyes his are still a deep, dark, black but the glitter catching in them is no longer just the bright lights. "I love him," he says softly. "Sometimes, I even think I love you. You're all going to get hurt by this."

She shrugs her shoulders and blinks the last of the tears from her eyes. She pushes her hair behind one shoulder and settles back in her seat, snatches a strawberry from Chuck's plate and bites in deeply, eyes closing in surrender. When she opens them he's still watching but the hardness is gone from his eyes. "Of course we are, but it's not so bad knowing you'll be there to catch us. " It's her turn to reach across the table and she slides her hand atop his, bright red nails a harsh contrast to the paleness of his skin. "You can't save everyone, Chuck. Just ask Blair."

He shakes his head and the last of the sadness disappears from his face. In its place appears a smile that reaches his eyes in a way that makes her believe it might actually be real. "A girl, huh? Isn't it a little early to know?"

She shrugs again, snags a piece of pancake and pops it in her mouth, syrup sticking to her fingers. "I'm a Rhodes. Our line runs that way."

He laughs and there's joy in it to match the smile on his face. "Just what the world needs: another Rhodes woman making a mess of the neighborhood."

She laughs in a way that bubbles up from her stomach and into her throat and almost makes her forget that she can't remember the last time she laughed so freely. "I do what I can to play my part."

She winces inwardly and the laughter dies on her lips. She presses a hand to her (still) flat belly; she played her part well and she'll keep feeling the after effects for the rest of her life.

Chuck senses the change in mood and turns their hands, so their fingers are wrapped around each other's. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you."

"Why?" The Non-Judging Breakfast Club might be making a comeback, but their relationship has always been the most strained.

His voice gets soft, quiet in a way that only appears when he's talking about Blair. "My father and Lily didn't have the best marriage, but she took me in and gave me a home. We're family, Serena. I'll always have your back."

"Thank you."

She smiles again and it doesn't reach her eyes but doesn't make it any less honest.

---

Nate has a morning class but the afternoon free and he calls both their mothers for a conference in the Bass/Van der Woodsen/Humphrey living room. Anne and Lily sit on the couch and she and Nate occupy chairs and he looks out the window while her eyes remain fixed on the Prada painting hanging by the stairs. She remembers when her life was no more than choosing the right dress or shoes. Her hand unconsciously moves to her belly; her life will never be so easy again.

Both mothers ask what the meeting is all about and Nate is the one to answer, take charge the way she's never had to a day in her life. "Serena is pregnant," he says flatly, without a trace of emotion, and Anne's eyes go wide while Lily's fingers tighten on her glass of chardonnay.

"Oh, Nate," his mother whispers, tears pooling in her bright, blue eyes but Lily's jaw tightens over the rim of her wineglass.

"Serena," she says sharply. "When will you ever learn?" She suddenly looks exhausted and very small, something almost like fear swimming in her eyes. She's never been much of a mother, but Serena knows she loves her. Her hand creeps back to her belly. It's early, too soon, but she knows what it's like to want more for someone else than she's had for herself.

"It's not like we did it on purpose," Serena tries to explain but it's hard when Nate isn't defending either of them. His shoulders are straight and his posture is tall and she realizes he's expected this his entire life. He might be an Archibald by name, but he has Van der Bilt blood in his veins and he's always known his future would come with a price. "We have a plan," she continues even though she hasn't put much thought into the future beyond calling Vanya to deliver her things to Nate and Chuck's suite. She smiles brightly, that wide, bold Rhodes smile her mother has worn so many times before, and takes Nate's hand. The smile doesn't fall even when he doesn't squeeze back. "It's going to be fine."

Anne starts to cry in earnest and Nate leaves her side to comfort his mother. "Shhh," he croons in her ear, wrapping her in his warmth the way he wouldn't the previous night. "It's going to be okay, Mom. Really. We have it all worked out." She can't restrain the wince because he's Nate and he's not perfect but he's all that's good and pure in her life and she's already started ruining him too.

"I thought you were smarter than this, Serena," Lily hisses, her wineglass empty and the lines around her mouth strained. "It's one thing to ruin your own life, but it's another to destroy someone else's in the process."

She wants to tell her mother she's wrong. She wants to scream from the rooftops that it's Tripp that made the mistake, set too many lives down the wrong path, but she remains silent. She knew the rules; she also knew what would happen if she broke them.

Lily doesn't kiss her goodbye and only makes a half-hearted comment about calling her in the morning. Serena knows she needs distance. She sneaks a glance at Nate, still staring blankly out the window of the cab.

She knows how hard it is to see someone she loves make the same stupid mistake she did.

---

Her routine remains the same because she makes it that way. It's always worked for her in the past; she refuses to push her luck now.

Jenny takes her shopping after school and Blair takes her to lunch and Dorota supplies baby tips while Eric screens movies on Chuck's widescreen and even Vanessa drops by occasionally with pierogies or blintzes and they gorge themselves silly while giggling over how inept Dan is at dating.

It should feel awkward and she thinks it would be awkward if that life wasn't a million miles away, lifetimes away, when the worst mistake she made was simply being herself. Vanessa has always resided on a high horse and Serena hates the pity in her eyes but puts on her bravest, Rhodes smile because she deserves it.

She made her own bed; all she can do is lie in it.

---

A few weeks go by before Dan drops by during her daily breakfast with Chuck bearing waffles from Rufus but nothing from Lily. "She sends her love," he insists while downing mug upon mug of Chuck's gourmet coffee (she doesn't remind him that it's not fair trade) and bites into a croissant instead.

Chuck rolls his eyes and turns the page of the WSJ and mumbles something about not being able to choose your family.

Something warm lodges in her chest and it's not the heat from her tea.

---

Serena doesn't believe in ghosts but that doesn't mean they aren't real.

They hover at the edges of her life even as she pushes them away with ginger ale masquerading as champagne, a bout of stomach flu here and there, mercury allergies when she can no longer eat sushi with Blair and her latest minions.

She stops watching tv and doesn't read the paper. When she has monthly brunches with Anne, they only talk about the Archibald side of the family.

Her body is the same, boobs a bit bigger and waist a little thicker, but otherwise unchanged. No one knows the truth and won't for a while yet.

She closes her eyes each night and tells herself that nothing has changed.

She still isn't the sharpest tool in the shed but even she can't fool herself.

---

It's the middle of her third month when she wakes up in the middle of the night and Nate isn't in bed beside her.

Despite the agreement between them, their time is their own, and he's spent days and nights away from her, but he's never started an evening in her bed and ended it in another.

Their bedroom door is open and she pads to the living room to find him standing before Chuck's big windows, his hands pressed flat against the glass.

"Nate?" she asks. "Is everything okay?"

She knows he hears her, can see the slight flinch of his shoulders, and he drops his hands, the imprint of his lifelines smudging the glass. "I couldn't sleep," is all he says.

She takes a step forwards so she's right behind him, can see her reflection backed by the flashing lights of the city around them. She thinks about touching him but knows better and keeps her hands at her sides. "A penny for your thoughts?" she offers, but the joke is in poor taste. She lives in Nate's house with clothes and food he buys. Like mother, like daughter; her money has never been her own.

"I was dreaming about that summer we spent on my boat in the Hamptons. I wanted to go to USC but my father wanted Dartmouth. You told me…" he trails off.

"I told you what?" she whispers, strains to remember that summer. She remembers the sun and the sea and the way they were always laughing. She remembers the things that seemed important then; she doesn't remember anything else.

He turns to face her, his eyes shadowed in the darkness. "It doesn't matter. I grew up and figured out that you can't always get what you want."

He pushes past her and into their room, the door slamming behind him.

She drops onto the couch and holds her head in her hands. The jig is up. It's time to face what she's become.

---

Serena doesn't believe in ghosts but that doesn't mean they don't haunt her.

One morning in her fourth month she wakes up and it's like someone stuffed a basketball under her skin while she was sleeping. She stands before the mirror in the room she shares with Nate, the silk of her negligee pulled up to her breasts, staring at the swelling in her belly.

She swallows hard and forces herself to open her eyes wide.

There's no ignoring the way her belly juts out from her torso or pushes against the straining seams of her slip.

She's pregnant and there's no avoiding it. In five months, she'll bring another life into world. A mouth to feed and a body to clothe, a soul to shape. Nausea springs to her throat and it has nothing to do with the morning sickness that's sporadically plagued her days.

There's a gasp behind her, and she spins, blond hair flying, and sees Nate in the doorway, reaching for a forgotten notebook.

"Wow," he whispers. "You're really pregnant.

Her negligee is still rucked up to her breasts and her belly is still exposed and she should be tugging the silk down or cradling her arms around her middle but all she can do is stare paralyzed. She's seen the changes to her body before, but seeing them in his face is making it too real.

"It just happened," she manages to say. "I woke up this morning and there she was."

He nods, one hand inching away from his waist, but he doesn't touch her. He hasn't in months. She's not sure he ever will again.

He's staring straight at her, something between wonder and agony caught in his eyes, and it hurts to look at him but she won't break his gaze. He hasn't looked at her, really looked at her, since the night Tripp broke his heart and she let him, and she misses it too much to give up. "You look really beautiful," he says and looks like he wants to say more but stops himself from pressing on. He's Nate, but he's not _her_ Nate anymore. He learned that lesson better than she ever could. "I…I have to go," he says instead and his free hand picks up the notebook and leaves the room with more speed than necessary.

She drops her arms to her sides and stares at the bump of her baby, wraps herself in the memory of that hand reaching for her. This wasn't what she imagined when Nate promised to rescue her again.

She risks another glance in the mirror and can't look away from the swell of her stomach. She can't hide from it any longer, can't run and can't ignore. She isn't the same girl Nate plucked from dance floors and VIP chaises and plush bar stools; she can't pretend he's the same boy.

It's one thing to hold back her hair or take off her shoes and tuck the covers to her chin; it's another to play father to the baby she's having in secret with his cousin.

She can't say she blames him for hating her. She closes her eyes but when she opens them her belly is still swollen and her mistake is still on display.

She can't blame him for hating her when half the time she hates herself.

---

The days keep going and Nate slips further away.

Nate goes to class and Nate goes to the library and at some point in the evening he comes home and slide into bed, always clinging to the far right side.

She gets bigger and takes up more room. By five months she can no longer fit into any of her old clothes and the bed is big, but not big enough. One night she slips between the covers, a pair of old boxers riding low on her hips and one of Nate's t-shirts bunching around the swelling bump of her baby, and the empty space between them stops feeling so wide.

She's tired of waiting. She's still Serena Van der Woodsen. She's never stopped herself from taking what she's wanted. She's not willing to start now.

She rolls over and lands in no man's land, feels him stir, the mattress shifting as he turns to face her.

She's never done this before and his voice is filled with concern. "Serena, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says. "But we're not." He's quiet, so quiet all she can hear is the even rhythm of their breathing, and when he doesn't say anything in response she pushes forward. "Nate, how did it come to this?"

His voice is so soft she has to strain to hear him over their breathing, but there's no missing the message in his words. "Blair always used to talk about the future. I'd mostly tune it out, because we were fifteen. Marriage and kids were the last thing on my mind. Then the Campbell Apartment happened and it stopped seeming so far away. When you find the right person, all the other stuff – it doesn't matter anymore. When you left I thought it was all just a dream, but then you came back and I thought it was my chance. Not the marriage and kids, but something happening."

"Nate…" she starts because when she left that first time she never once thought about what it might have meant for him. She'd betrayed Blair, killed Pete Fairman – breaking Nate's heart had been the least of all possible evils.

"You said you didn't come back for me," he continues. "I didn't want to believe it at the time, but then you chose Dan Humphrey and Carter Baizen and even my cousin. You knew how I felt about you but you never chose me."

"I had no idea!" she protests. She knew he had feelings for her, but she's Serena Van der Woodsen; there's never been a man who didn't.

He sits up, broad shoulders slumped, and draws his knees to his chest. "All that stuff, the marriage and the kids, I always wanted it someday." He laughs, without humor, the way he's been laughing since the night Tripp set them down this path. "Maybe I even convinced myself that I'd have it with you. Thing is, I do have it. I have the kid and I even have you, but none of it is really mine."

She pauses, but this night has been all about being brave and she takes his wrist between her fingers and drags his hand to her stomach. It's hot and hard but the skin is soft and his entire body freezes as she pushes his palm flat. "I know something about family," she says, her father's rejection still stinging between her ribs. "Chuck says you don't get to choose yours but I disagree. You're Nate, my Nate. I knew you wouldn't walk away from us."

She reaches out to touch him, lays a hand on his bare shoulder, but he twists away from her. "I'm not a puppet, Serena. I know I can't play the game as well as Chuck and Blair, but I'm still a person. I have my own life. Sometimes I even want to live it the way I want."

She's known Nate her entire life, remembers the wistful look in his eyes when he'd discuss USC and the way he'd stare at his mother's hand like his entire future was wrapped up in one flash of diamond because it was back then. He's had his entire life dictated to him by other people; she's only one in a long line and she won't be the last. "I wasn't trying to trap you," she says but she knows the apology is feeble. Just when he'd gotten away, she managed to pull him back in.

"I need some air," he says and pushes back the covers, pads barefoot and clad only in boxers out of the room.

She lies down, on her side of the bed, and wraps her arms tight around her belly, tears slowly slipping down her cheeks.

She knows what it's like to feel trapped.

---

Nate doesn't come home that night or the night after and Blair sends him threatening texts and then leaves threatening voice messages and Chuck refuses to get involved. Blair won't sleep with him or even let him touch her, but he won't back down. Serena wonders if he had a personality transplant while she was away for the summer, but Blair can't keep the smile from her face even as she comes up with new insults involving the word "bass."

She eats dinner with them each night and listens to them talk about their days and make barely veiled come ons to one another and wonders when everyone in her world started growing up and she got left behind.

Her hands slips to her belly again and cradles the ever expanding bump. She has no idea how to catch up.

---

Nate reappears after two weeks of crashing at Dan's loft.

Blair pries the truth out of Dan and Serena has no idea what Blair did but she does notice he won't look Blair in the eye when he turns up for breakfast one morning to debate health care reform with Chuck.

Nate returns looking tired and rumpled but there's a brightness in his eyes she hasn't seen since before this mess began and it gives her hope.

"Serena," he says before Blair can even open her mouth. "We need to talk."

They retreat to their bedroom and she sits on the edge of the mattress while he leans against the bookcase, his hips still lean while hers keep getting wider.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" she asks but it's not really a question. She's been waiting for this day since that first night when they climbed into bed and he wouldn't even look at her. She's Serena Van der Woodsen. She's never had trouble catching a man; keeping one was always the hard part.

He shakes his head. "I told you I'd help you through this and I'm not going back on my promise."

"So what then?"

"When we told the mothers, you said there was a plan. What is it?"

She doesn't have a response. She remembers that morning, the lies that spilled from her mouth as easily as she fell into Tripp's arms: effortlessly, never contemplating the consequences. "I lied."

He doesn't look surprised and she wonders, possibly for the first time, when Nate stopped being a wide-eyed boy. "I figured as much. But it doesn't change anything. We need a plan if this is going to work."

"I…" she starts but it's too much to pretend any longer. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

Suddenly he smiles and his face lights up in a way that reminds her of the Nate she no longer thought existed. "I thought I was the only one."

He's still smiling and she takes a risk, even smiles back. "What do you mean?"

"We can't do this. We're only eighteen. I just figured out we have a refrigerator last month. We can't take care of ourselves let alone someone else."

She feels the smile disappear from her face. "Nate, it's too late…"

"I don't mean that," he says quickly. "I talked to my mom. She says she'll take her in. She thinks with some convincing, Lily will help too."

"No," she says softly and then says it again, louder, with everything she feels infused into the words. She won't become her mother; she won't let this destroy her the way it did Lily. "I'm keeping her, Nate," she insists and he looks surprised by her words. "With or without you, she's staying with me."

"How?"

"I love her," she says softly. It's the first time she's said the words, even thought them, but she knows them to be true. She does love her baby, loves the possibility of her, loves the idea of a Rhodes woman making it when all the others have failed. "I love her and I want her and I'm not giving her away." Her voice isn't loud, but it's strong and determined and she's clenching her firsts at her sides. She means her words, more than she thinks she's meant anything before, and she looks Nate in the eye the entire time so he knows she means them. He looks like he doesn't recognize her and also completely panic-stricken but he hasn't left the room and he hasn't said no. "Nate, say something."

He opens his mouth and she thinks the words will be goodbye but he's looking at her in a way she hasn't seen since the Campbell Apartment but there's no alcohol and there's no lies between them. This is the most honest they've ever been and he's still standing in front of her. "I've never been able to say no to you," he says and smiles, a shy, nervous smile and takes a step forward. "I don't think I can start now."

He takes a step closer and then another and then he's so close his stomach is touching the awkward bump of her baby. She presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart, and she's surprised by how fast it's beating. She can feel her own thumping wildly in her breast and she knows this is the most important conversation she's had in her life. "I've never done anything important before," she confesses. "I might not do anything important again. If this is the only thing I do…I want to do it right and it want to do it with you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he assures her and even smiles when he says the words so she knows he means them.

She sees the sailboat they took to the Hamptons the summer before sophomore year, before she left and before their lives were never quite the same. She remembers the sun on her face and the wind in her hair and how it felt like anything was possible. She doesn't want him to never feel that way again. "I don't want to trap you, Nate," she says quietly. "I'm not trying to ruin your life but I can't do this alone."

"Shhh," he croons and wraps his fingers in her hair, draws her mouth to his. "I said yes. I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."

She smiles, relieved, and he takes the opportunity to part her lips and slip his tongue into her mouth. She hasn't kissed him since the night of the Sheppard wedding but he's sweet and familiar and it's like kissing the same Nate only older and wiser. All the barriers are broken. It's only two of them and the life caught between them.

She pulls back and looks into his eyes, the same warm, dark blue she's always known, but they belong to a man in place of a boy. "I know you think she's mine but I think she should be ours."

He doesn't kiss her again but he does brush her hair back from her brow and press his lips to her forehead. "I'm honored."

She drops her head to the dip where his shoulder meets his chest and closes her eyes as his arms wrap tight around her.

Growing up doesn't seem nearly so hard when there's someone to show her the ropes.

* * *

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